


On Thin Ice

by auricomousArtisan



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Child Abuse, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 13:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2852822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auricomousArtisan/pseuds/auricomousArtisan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John just wanted to be nice when he started sitting with the lone girl in the courtyard. But Vriska Serket is hiding something behind her mask of confidence, and he's determined to find out what it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Courtyard

Your name is John Egbert, and it takes a lot more courage than you thought it would to sit by the girl in the courtyard.

Every day for at least the month you’ve been back in school, you’ve seen the same routine over and over. She’ll sit a couple tables away from your own lunch table- completely alone- and in the last ten minutes of lunch she’ll throw away her trash and whatever food she hasn’t eaten before going outside to sit in the courtyard. A couple times you got curious after noticing the repetitive action, almost like clockwork, and watched to see what she did. However, all she did was sit in the sun, never approaching anyone and nobody every approaching her.

You’ve got to admit you’re curious. You’ve seen her in a couple of your classes, actually- she’s one of the new students, you think. It’s strange to you that she sits alone, because the one thing you remember about her in class is that she’s actually kind of loud. You practically always see her bugging the guy in the wheelchair in English, or laughing with Dave's friend Terezi as they throw bits of paper at Karkat's horns. To be honest, you can’t imagine her being anything but surrounded by people, and so every time you see her leave the cafeteria you can’t help but wonder why she isn’t.

It practically takes a full week for you to work up the courage to follow her out one day. Each time you pass of an opportunity, it’s always some lame ass excuse you pulled out of your butt- something like _What if she thinks I’m a creeper?_ or _But I really want to hear Jade finish her story about the weird Algebra II teacher_ or sometimes _What would I even say?_ What can you say, it's intimidating to just pop up and talk with someone you've never acknowledged before. But you just can't shake off the feeling that you very well should go bug the girl in the courtyard. You can't shake the feeling that maybe she's waiting for someone to bug her.

These thoughts are exactly the reason why your best bro Dave suddenly snaps his fingers in front of your face, yanking you out of your thoughts. “Yo, earth to Egbert, come in dork.” He says, leaning forward. You see your own reflection in the lame shades he religiously wears, and although his face is deadpan like it literally always is, you think you catch a slight frown in his expression. Or at least the Strider version of a frown, because it's really just a slight heaviness to his usual expression. Or something. “You alright, man? You’ve been staring out that window for at least fifteen minutes.”

You instantly force a wide smile, ruffling your already messed up hair and saying “Nah, I’m cool. Just cold, I might want to step outside.” Damn, you got to admit that’s freaking smooth. You give yourself a mental high five for the awesome excuse. You simply are the best at excuses around.

Rose raises an eyebrow, obviously doubting your reasoning- after all, you have a hoodie draped over your seat that you haven’t touched for the entirety of the lunch period, and normally you jump for any excuse to wear the thing (I mean, who wouldn’t, it’s hella sweet, you got it last year from your Dad and pretty much are never seen without it) but thankfully she doesn’t point this out or add a snarky comment. You stand, scooping up your hoodie and tossing it over your shoulder with a tiny wave at them. “Be right back,” You declare before turning away and heading for the courtyard doors.

Okay, so you’ve got to admit that the moment of confidence you just had is pretty quickly diminishing. Fuck. Already the many worries that keep popping up every time you think about going to say hi or something are swarming your mind, making you worry about being a total fucking dweeb.

Not that you aren’t one, but still.

You force yourself to push through the doors to the courtyard anyways. As soon as the doors are opened, a gentle breeze blows past you, and wow it’s a nice day outside. It’s still early fall, so it’s not like it’s gotten to cold or anything and the sun still warms the ground- but it’s a kind of gentle warmth that doesn’t make you all sweaty and gross or anything. Maybe you should start dragging your friends to sit outside in the courtyard, too. It's a pretty nice space, with the rest of the school wrapped around the small field of green like a big doughnut. There's even a big oak tree in the center, with some fancy memorial plate of some student from way too long ago for anyone to remember. It's pretty empty today, save for a couple of freshman playing soccer over in one corner of the courtyard and a couple people occupying the surrounding benches.

Someone clears their throat behind you, and you turn around to see a sheepish sophomore waiting patiently for you to stop standing like a dead weight in the doorway like a freaking idiot. Geez Egbert, nice way to get in someone’s way. With a rushed apology you skitter out of the doorway, now remembering what you were out here to do in the first place.

It only takes a second to find where she’s sitting- after all, she’s been sitting the same place for the past month. Currently, she’s lying down on the bench she always lounges on, one leg elevated by the arm rest bar and one leg dangling down from the seat. Her head is propped up by her schoolbag, like some sort of makeshift pillow. You see her every day, sure, but this is the first time you've actually stopped to observe her. She's actually really pretty you think, in a kind of noble and strong kind of way, with a sharp jawline and narrow, upturned eyes that watch the world haughtily. Her hair is dark and thick, and right now surrounds her face like a halo as she lies down on the bench. You stop your approach once you’re closer, wondering if maybe she’s actually taking a nap or something and you’re disturbing her.

Right as you’re about to lose your courage and back off, she answers your question herself as she tilts her head to face you, quirking an eyebrow at you with a frown. “Can I help you?” she asks with a bored tone, evaluating you as you stare dumbly in front of her. Her glasses are slightly askew on her face, and although she doesn't move to fix them she still manages to somehow be intimidating. You're pretty certain Rose would cry if she saw how sharp her eyeliner was.

You can’t find words to say, suddenly drawing up a blank. Hi sounded stupid. Sup is lame, and reminds you way too much of Dave. How are you is too intrusive, and Don't I know you? Seems like the beginning of a really bad pick up line. Dammit you just want to be nice. You open your mouth, but all that comes out is a highly graceful “Uhh,”

Smooth, Egbert.

“Look, I know it’s incredibly difficult to talk to someone as blindingly awesome as me,” She drawls dramatically, sitting up and swinging her legs so that she’s facing you. “But staring at me all day isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

Your face flushes with embarrassment- god this is freaking worst case scenario material right here- but you dump your bags down beside you with determination and sit down across from her, crossing your legs Indian style. You give her a wide smile. “Just wanted to say hi,” You start, trying to make sure you sounded as cheerful and not pissbabyish as possible. “You’re in my English class, right?”

She frowns at you, looking slightly annoyed by your unmoving posture, but you practically can feel the nonexistent shrug as she says “Yeah. Your name’s…. John, right?”

“Uhh, Yeah.” You say, actually taken aback. You can honestly say that you weren’t expecting her to recognize you at all, let alone know your name. No matter how hard you try to remember, you're pretty certain that you've never really talked to her before in the month you two had gone to school together. “And you’re… umm…” God you’re an idiot. Her names on the tip of your tongue. Unusual sounding. Something exotic maybe? God you're the worst with names, literally the very worst. “Victoria…?” You ask sheepishly.

With a smirk that almost makes you kind of scared, she corrects you. “Vriska,” She says proudly, as if just her name is the coolest freaking thing in the world, sitting up straight and crossing her arms over her chest. “Vriska Serket. I wouldn’t forget it again, if I were you.

You roll your eyes. Her self centered attitude is almost funny, and you actually can't tell if she's being serious or not with you. She doesn't sound like Dave when he's pulling off his ironic douchebag attitude, though, which almost makes it funnier to you. You're still smiling when you say “That’s cool. Kinda neat you knew my name!”

“It’s mainly cause you’re a total teacher’s pet,” She pointed out. "Mrs. Lalonde is always all ' _John this, John that, oh let me read John's paper for you._ '" The way she says it is in a slurred, girly voice, and to throw in more salt to the wound she bats her eyelashes at you.

Your jaw drops, and you incredulously protest. “I am so not!”

With a snicker, Vriska says “Oh my gosh, you so kiss Mrs. Lalonde’s ass. Don’t even try and deny it.”

You cross your arms over your chest, pouting. “Well, yeah.” You grumble. “She’s my best friend’s mom. It’d be really fucking stupid to be a little turd around her.” Well, there's also the weird fling that you're almost certain Mrs. Lalonde and your Dad have, but in all honesty you try and pretend that that doesn't exist for your sanity's fate.

She shakes her head, tsking her tongue smugly. “Whatever you say, John.”

The bell cuts you off before you have the chance to say anything else. Vriska slings her bag over her shoulder, flashes you a crooked smile, and leaves the courtyard with nothing but a quick “See ya,”. Your kind of glad with how that went- so maybe you crashed and burned to start with, but you at least feel like it wouldn't be weird to talk with Vriska again. Maybe it'd be nice to pop in every now and then to say hi in the courtyard. Something tells you that it's actually kind of lonely sitting by yourself every day.

As you leave the courtyard, you manage to catch up with your friends as they make their way out of the cafeteria. Jade looks at you kind of funny, frowning as she asks “Who was that you were talking to?” Rose and Dave are giving you the same suspicious look, but you’ve got to admit that maybe you weren’t as smooth as you thought anyways.

You give a halfhearted shrug. “Just a friend from English.”

Dave does his little half smirk. "Ha, I'm calling bullshit. You trying to tap that?" He asks, wiggling his eyebrows like a fucking tool.

"Daaaaaaaave!" You give him a shove, but you can't resist a grin.

Surprisingly, the conversation ends there. They go along talking about some other event that had happened that day that you honestly aren't paying the slightest attention to. You're able to play off your conversation with Vriska Serket, but already you're planning on heading to the courtyard tomorrow ten minutes before the bell.


	2. Sweaty Garages, Broken Bottles, and Late Essays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse in the life of Vriska Serket,
> 
> tw for alcoholism

Your name is Vriska Serket and you’ve never been more tired in your life.

You’re currently working minimum wage in the shitty car garage down the street. There’s no AC in the entire place and the aluminum building quickly becomes miserably hot when the sun bears down on it in the heat of the day. You can’t even actually help out Equius with fixing the cars, since he only can because his father owns the place. It’d at least give you something better to do then fetching towels all day and tapping your nails impatiently against the wood desk that you accept customers at.

The whole place stinks like hell too. It’s a mixture of oil and obscene amounts of sweat that always hits you like a brick wall when you enter the ramshackle building, and even when you get used to the smell it still leaves a permanent wrinkle of distaste in your countenance. It’s stuffy and it’s hot and it’s boring and it’s musty as hell.

But it’s a job, at the very least. It’s a job and you’ll be dammed if you don’t need the money.

The small fan drones on lazily, not even really helping much at all in cooling the place as it practically just circulates the stuffy air around instead of actually cooling it. You heave a sigh, your cheek resting in your cupped hand, squishing your face as you slouched in the chair. Equius rolls out from under the car he’s been working on, wiping grease on his stained shirt. “Vriska, would you mind getting me a towel?” He requests politely, sitting up and looking at you behind scratched, cracked glasses.

It’s almost pathetic how that’s practically the most interesting thing that’s happened since you got there. You set down your blue pen, grateful to be able to walk away from your homework for at least a minute or two. You stroll over to the towel bin, frowning as you see that the supply is pretty low at this point. The deep bin only has a couple spare towels for you resting at the bottom, and you have to lean pretty far down into the bucket to grab one. You’re almost worried that if Equius doesn’t slow down with his towel consumption that you’ll have to go a couple hours without any while the dirty laundry full of sweaty, greasy towels gets cleaned. The thought makes you shudder with fear- he stinks enough after fifteen minutes without a towel, let alone a couple hours.

You head back over toward him, chucking the towel underhand. Equius grabs it as it flies overhead, dipping his head gratefully as he wipes his face and hands. He’s a decent guy, you suppose, but the smell definitely takes getting used to.

As you settle back down in your chair, you check your phone. With a sigh, you realize that it’s really not anywhere near closing time. Damn. The couple hours you’ve been here feels like ages, and your day already felt far too long after school anyways.

Equius must notice that you are checking the time, because he purses his lips and quietly says “You know… Vriska… Maybe you could take the rest of the day off. I’m certain Horuss wouldn’t mind.”

Instantly, you perk up. “Really?” You ask, grinning with relief.

He shrugs. “Well…” Equius says. “Tuesdays are generally lazy days. We are probably not due for any customers, and you seem tired. Take the rest of the day off, I can handle it if someone comes in.”

Without caring that he’s still sweaty and gross, you jump up and give Equius a spine crushing hug- ok, you’ve got to admit that maybe you care a little bit more now that you’re up close and personal with his stink- and say “Thank you soooooooo much, Eq. I owe you one, man!”

Equius gives you a crooked-toothed smile, but you have to admit that it’s a bit more of a grimace. “It’s no problem.” He says, slinging the towel over his shoulder. “No point in keeping you here longer then necessary.”

You nod, and without much fanfare gather all of your scattered papers from the plastic stand up table hurriedly (you honestly cannot stand being in this hellhole of a shop for a single moment longer). With a rushed wave as you shoot a look at Equius over your shoulder, you hurry out of the storage unit of a shop, closing the door behind you.

As fresh, cool air fill your lungs, you have to take a second to admire the peaceful quiet of the lazy street before heading for your beaten truck. Honestly, you kind of should let Equius look at it yourself- the damn thing is really getting away. The old cerulean paint is chipping, and one of your side view mirrors is literally duct taped into the frames (it’s still perfectly adjustable, though!). When you hop in, the whole thing shudders with your weight, and it takes at least three times to turn on the ignition. Even when you do get the old thing to purr it’s way to life, there’s a concerning shrill note that gets drowned out in the steady drone of the engine. You don’t have the money nor the patience to actually do anything about it, though. As long as the only thing is still running, you’ll deal with it.

The drive to your house is short, but you still turn the radio on as loud as you can bare (8 notches out of 10, to be exact) and roll down your window so that the wind that rushes past you ruffles your hair. It’s a rare moment of peace that you’ll be dammed if you don’t soak up. By the time you’re pulling into your neighborhood, the second song is just barely starting, and for a second you consider sitting in the car to wait for it to stop but decide against it.

You turn the ignition off, sighing a little at the jarring silence, before climbing out of the rickety truck and heading for your front door. Fishing the key out of your pocket, you stick it in and unlock the door. Quietly, you open the door, sticking your head inside and crossing your fingers hopefully. “Mom…?” You call, loud enough to be heard but not loud enough to wake her up if she’s sleeping.

It seems today you have no such luck. Your mother’s head rises from her spot on the couch, glaring at you. The whole place smells of cigarettes and alcohol, and the smoke that’s coming from her current cigarette stings your eyes as you walk into the house. “What are _you_ doing here?” She snaps, sitting up from her slouched position on the couch. She pauses whatever it is she’s watching- America’s Next Top Model?- and glares at you.

You don’t back down, though. You have a perfectly reasonable explanation- she’d only get mad at you if she was _really_ drunk. “Equius let me off early.” You say. “Slow day at work, not much point for me to be there.”

Your mother evaluates you with narrowed, bleary eyes, frowning as if debating whether or not she wanted to challenge you. However, all she does is settle back down to her squished spot in the couch. “At least make yourself useful, then. Cook some dinner.” She grumbled.

A silent breath of relief lets loose from your lungs, and you turn away to head for the kitchen. It’s a pesky chore that you hate doing, especially since she usually will just complain about whatever you cooked and order take out anyways, but you don’t dare argue with your mother.

After all, mother knows best.

 

 

The next day, the boy from your English class comes to sit with you yet again. You aren’t quite certain if it’s annoying you or if it’s flattering.

Today isn’t quite as nice as yesterday was; the sky overhead is cloudy and murky and there’s a big stronger of a tug of wind. It’s chillier, and you actually don’t have a jacket (usually this area doesn’t get too cold, at the very least. Just brief cold fronts now and then) but even still you went out to sit in the courtyard. You had to admit you were slightly surprised when John came out in the last ten minutes as well, though.

Again he set his bag from yours, sitting Indian style. “Hey, you get that essay done for English?” He asked you, after what seemed like a brief moment when he tried to come up with a conversation topic. So school was kind of a lame thing to chat about, but his words still sent a shock to you.

“ _Shit._ ” Your eyes widened, and your stomach plummeted with horror. “No, I had work ‘til seven and I didn’t get it done!”

“Oooh, where do you work?” John asks cheerfully, seemingly interested.

You scowl at him. “Zahhak’s Garage… but that’s not the point! Ughhhhhhhh I’m freaking screwed.” Your bury your head in your hands.

John purses his lips, mulling it over, before standing up and sitting beside you on the bench. “Get your netbook out.” He said, pointing at your bag. You frown- is he really going to make you write the entire thing right this second? It’s due before school ends. There’s no possible way you can do the whole thing in that time. Nonetheless, you’re desperate, and you pull the small school-issued laptop from your bag.

He holds his hands out, and you hand him the small laptop. John frowns when the password pulls up, but you sigh and say “It’s NicCage88, if you’re asking.”

“No way, Nic Cage is the best!” In the second you say that, John’s eyes light up and he sits up straighter on the bench. He’s multitasking, opening a word document, and you watch him with a slight confused frown. “He was _so_ good in Con Air.”

You smirk a little. “And you’ve got to admit, he is pretty hot.” You almost expect the customary guy ‘no homo’ response, but your grin widens as John nods in awed agreement. He key slammed into the word document, heightening your confusion, and almost as an afterthought adds ‘nic cage is awesome :B’. He saves it, titling it ‘Literary Analysis Essay’, before closing it and opening another program you recognize.

“Notepad?” You say, tilting your head curiously.

John nods once more. “Yeah, a friend taught me how to do this. Just an easy way to earn another day or two to catch up on work. Something about messing with the code of the stuff… I don’t know, I’m pretty bad with codes really. Dabbled with it for a while, but I never got too far.” He laughed, opening his document and deleting a random chunk of the code before saving it and closing down the programs. Triumphantly he shoves the laptop towards you, grinning as he declared “Now open your fantastically brilliant essay, courtesy of moi.”

You skeptically open your files and click on the document. It opens slowly, before an error message tells you that the document’s contents have been corrupted and it cannot be open. Upon realizing what he just did, you grin as well. “Oh my god John, you are a lifesaver.”

John looks pretty smug as he says “Save the applause, Vris. Send that in and when she opens it to grade it, she’ll tell you she can’t open it. Grading policy requires her to give you more time!”

You nod, closing your tablet. “Awesome. Thanks soooooooo much, John. I’d be dead if my mother found a missing grade!” You slip it back into your bag, and check your phone. Lunch only has a couple minutes left.

“Hey, Vriska, you like Nic Cage then?” John asks cautiously, and you quirk an eyebrow before nodding slowly. “Awesome, a couple of my friends are coming over to my house for movie night on Saturday. We’re going to marathon all the National Treasures… wanna come?”

Saturday and Sunday are your only off days, and you know Mom won’t appreciate you ditching out on chores. However, you can just say Eq needs extra help with some side project and promise to be home early or something. So with only a moment’s hesitation, you grin and say “Sure, can’t pass off a good Nic Cage marathon, now can I?”

He grins at that. “Awesome! Just give me your number, I’ll text you address and stuff. Maybe I could show you my table too? Some of them will be there.” You nod, and when he offers his phone you open contacts and click on ‘Create New’.

_Vriska Serket ::::)_  
224-800-2340

The bell rings not long after, and you toss him his phone before slinging your backpack over your shoulder. “See you,” you call after him. John waves at you before slipping through the courtyard doors, slipping back into his group of friends and disappearing from your sight.

Your name is Vriska Serket, and it looks like you’ve got a date.


End file.
